


Feels like home

by ccshbh



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, I'm also ignoring any other Riverdale character, because these kids deserve a break, college is exhausting okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccshbh/pseuds/ccshbh
Summary: First of all, sorry this is so short. Secondly, I'm basically pouring my uni stress out in this one. So I'm Jugehead and Jugehead is me in this one. Yes, I'm that weird. Enjoy!





	1. Feels like Home

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, sorry this is so short. Secondly, I'm basically pouring my uni stress out in this one. So I'm Jugehead and Jugehead is me in this one. Yes, I'm that weird. Enjoy!

If Jughead has learned anything in the last two years, it is the fact that college is exhausting. Going to classes and working a part time job, while juggling all the other responsibilities that come with moving to a big city and establishing a life, is draining in a way, he hasn’t anticipated. And no one had warned him either.

The thing is: he is lucky. He has Betty by his side to share all those responsibilities with. She pays half the rent, they work their way through all the red tape together, they bounce ideas of each other for essays and term papers and always have someone to come home and complain to.

Nonetheless, sometimes, especially towards the end of the semester, he feels worn out.

Much like he does today. It is early April and the weather in Seattle is acting out. The few days before, spring had timidly shown the signs of its awakening and he had enjoyed the fact that the first rays of sunshine warmed his skin and he had been able to switch his winter coats for a much more comfortable leather jacket.

This morning though, him and Betty woke to the sound of raindrops hitting the windows of their one-bedroom apartment, accompanied by a storm hauling almost 50 miles an hour. If it had been for him, he wouldn’t have set a foot outside. But he had classes to attend and articles to write, so he let Betty drag him out of bed, with the promise of her joining him in the shower and coffee after.

And that was glorious, but right now, while the rain is drenching him (because of course he had forgotten to take an umbrella with him) he curses the fact that he ever stepped out on the streets.

“It had to be the fucking Pacific North West. We just couldn’t go to freaking California. No, it had to be Seattle.” 

To tell the truth, he is thankful that they ended up in Seattle. That they managed to put a whole country between themselves and the hell hole that is their hometown. But right now, while he is running from the subway station to their apartment building, he has to dig deep, deep down to find that thankfulness. He has never been an athlete and his loungs and muscles are not appreciating the exercise.

The only thing he wants, when he finally steps into their building, is dry cloths, food and watch an old classic with Betty. He knows, its not the typical plan sophomore college students have on a Friday night, but he really doesn’t give a fuck.

He always hated the notion of “what people that age are supposed to do”. It puts people into a box, it creates prejudice and generalization and since the beginning of time, that has never brought on anything good. Although he has accepted by now that to get further in life, he sometimes has to socialize with more people than just Betty, he still likes to keep those interactions to a bare minimum.

His cloths are still dripping when he steps into their apartment, but he forgets all about it, when the smell of beef hits his nose.

She is a fucking angel. There is no other explanation for the fact, that after the long and shitty day he just had, she is really cooking his favorite food.

He shouldn’t be surprised though. It is Betty after all.

She peaks her head out of the kitchen and snorts at the sight of him.

“I told you to take an umbrella with you, Juggie.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But first of all, thanks to college, I have the short-term memory of a goldfish now and secondly, not all of us are lucky enough to have no classes on Fridays. You got to stay here, were its warm and cozy, so don’t judge me.”

Betty snorts at that again and points the spatula at him. “Careful Jones. I only got two burgers ready and I’m thoroughly capable of eating them all by myself.”

At that Jughead lifts his arms in defeat. He is not going to risk going to bed hungry. “Alright, alright, you got me there Cooper. I’m going to change into some dry cloths and then I’ll be there to help you.”

“Now that is much better.”

…

Jughead’s mood lifts the moment he steps into their tiny kitchen. The smell of a good burger and the sight of Betty never fails to cheer him up. He wraps his arms around her from behind and nuzzles into her neck.

“Hi baby.” he mumbles into her skin.

“Hi” she whispers, removes the pan from the fire, turns around in his arms and stands on her tiptoes. “I didn’t get to greet you properly before.”

When her lips seal over his, everything goes quiet. Its crazy how the stress of a whole day can fall off you just like that. With something as small as a kiss.

But Betty pulls back way to soon and he lets out a little whine, chasing after her lips.

“Didn’t you say you would help me with dinner?”

“But I would much rather keep kissing you.” Jughead grumbles and Betty just laughs, while handing him their plates.

“Lay the table and you might get lucky.”

He sighs dramatically and shuffles over to their little kitchen table. But while he lays it and gets their drinks, he feels this feeling bubbling up inside him.

Because although in the last two years adult life had thrown a lot of stress at them, this is his favorite part. This easy domesticity he and Betty have, the simplicity of the life they are building together.

That on a Friday night, they will just sit in their tiny, but nonetheless cozy apartment, wolfing down his favorite food. He never thought this was possible, but god, he wouldn’t change it for the world. Because for the first time in his life, home really feels like home.


	2. Red crosses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So uhm... I kind of had this idea and I just thought it might fit well as a second chapter here. Its not at all connected to the chapter before, except for the fact that its set in the same "universe" and that I'm still ignoring any other Riverdale character but Betty and Jughead. Enjoy!

Crossing out another day with a read marker is weirdly satisfying. It is also a little bit ridiciouls, Betty figures. Crossing out the days until Jughead's return. Like they are in some tragic movie about World War II and she is waiting for him to come home. But it's been over 5 months now and she MISSES him. 

When he'd gotten the acceptance letter to join a writing program in London for the semester, she'd been ecstatic. This was big, it was something that would open doors for him. Only after nearly sending them both down with how enthusiastically she had hugged him she realised that it meant 6 months away from him. 6 months of figuring out time zones between Seattle and London, 6 months of calculating, when they would do their daily FaceTime dates. 6 months without kissing him, touching him, being with him. 6 months without the easy, daily routine they had settled into. And their financial situation didn't leave much room for a spontaneous trip to the other side of the pond either. 

So, she throws herself head first into her assingments and her part time job and everytime the feeling of missing him gets too much, she turns up "Jetlag" by Simple Plan. She keeps a picture of them in her car, her favorite one from the day they moved to Seattle. They both look exhausted but happy, radiant even. That day she'd felt free, she'd felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulder because they had finally escaped their old life, escaped Riverdale. But there is only so many assignments professors hand out and her job is, after all, just a part time job. After a while, she just runs out of things to do.

And with everyday that passes, it gets harder to wake up without the smell of the coffee he is already brewing, before she even does as much as stir. He is always up before her, sometimes, when they have time waking her for an elaborate breakfast. He might not win any awards for most of his cooking any time soon, but no one (including her), beats Jughead Jones at breakfast food.

It gets harder to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, every time she thinks about him kissing her good morning and goodnight. And now, 5 months in, she is just staring at her calender, mentally begging for time to move faster, to bring him back to her. It's pathetic, really.

Somewhere in between the 2nd and 3rd month, their FaceTime dates have become the highlight of her day. Its always late for him, but they never hang up in under two hours. Its when she rambles about what annoys her about her boss and about the people in her group projects that are not willing to do their part. Its where she tells him about the small details of her day by day, about rearranging her clothes (yup, she is definitely running out of things to do), they morning runs around town and the newest book she is reading. He tells her about his classes, shows her the pictures he takes around London, swears that one day the car of a member of the Royal Family drove past him ("There was so much police going after it and I googled it Betts, the Prime Minister was abroad. I bet you it was one of them") and makes her laugh when he tells her about his struggles with the accent of his Irish professor. 

"I just don't understand him. Its horrendous. He doesn't open his mouth when he speaks. I'm constantly sneaking notes from other students because I don't get what he is trying to tell me." he sighs. "I have no idea how to pass the exam, because I'm pretty sure I missed half the content he is teaching."

"Nah." Betty responds. "You are going to ace it, you always do." 

"You think?" he doubts. 

"Yes, because everything is always doom and gloom when you talk about your exams and then you ace them." 

"I hope you are right"

He probs the back of his head on his lower arm and Betty can't help but think about the last time he had been lying in bed next to her like this. It was the morning before he left for London. His hair was adorably ruffled, his upper torso still bared from the night before and she had tried to catalouge him this way, the way he looked, the feeling of his skin against hers when she snuggled into him and his lips on hers. Everything from his smell to the way his hand gently stroked over her shoulder. 

She has definitely been missing all of that more than she could have ever anticipated. 

"Betts?" the sound of her name brings her back to reality. 

"Oh, I'm sorry babe, I was thinking." 

He chuckles and the way his face lights up makes her stomach do a summersault. 

"I figured. I asked whats behind you?"

Betty feels herself blushing fiercly at that. He has spyed her calender. 

"I... uhm... I might be crossing out the days until you come back." she admits and hides her face in her hands. "It is really pathetic." 

She peeks through her fingers, ready to see him laughing, but his face has gone soft and he looks at her with a tenderness that is breathtaking.

"No baby. Its is definitely not. Look." 

With that he flips the camera of his phone and every embarrassment Betty might have felt, ebbs away within a second. Its a calender. And it has broad red crosses all over it.

 


	3. We were just kids when we fell in love

It had been a week. A long, rainy and exhausting week, full of classes and extra hours at her part time job. She’s barely seen Jughead and once they both made it home at night, the only thing they did was to collapse into bed and fall asleep in record time. 

But its finally Friday, she is wearing comfortable cloth, the everlasting rain outside falls against the window in heavy drops and Betty is roasting a chicken on her stove top that makes her mouth water. Its not a particularly elaborate dish, because (1) she is too tired to go all out and (2) she knows that Jughead enjoys her cooking, but doesn’t really care what kind of food there is unless its food. The whole scenario has her in a good mood and while she gets their plates to lay the table, she turns on the radio.

The first notes of “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran flow through the kitchen and Betty swoons. She loves that song. There is this one particular line in it, that always reminds her of her and Jughead and she turns the volume up, singing along, while neatly putting a folk and a knife next to their plates.

“We were just kids when we fell in love, fighting against all odds.” 

She sways back and forth a little and turns around to make her way back to the cupboard to get glasses but freezes when she sees Jughead leaning in the door frame, a dreamy smile on his face. 

She is prepared for him to laugh. To be infinitely amused by her being such a cliché and dancing around their kitchen like she is in some low budget rom-con. 

She is definitely NOT prepared for him offer her his hand, letting her do a twirl and then pulling her close to sway around the room with her. 

She is also NOT ready for him to lightly dip her to the ground right before the song ends and she has no control over the giggle that spills out of her. The smile that spreads on Jughead’s face is luminous and when he pulls her back up towards him, he presses a kiss to her head before hugging her tightly. 

“Hi.” she mumbles into his chest. 

“Hi baby.” he answers and drops another kiss to her head. 

Then he sniffs the air appreciatively and adds: “Please tell me that is your chicken I’m smelling, because I’m STARVING.” 

Betty laughs, looks up, pecks his lips and then untangles herself from him a little reluctantly. “Well, we can’t have that.” 


	4. Sparkling Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, here is another escapist fan fiction from me, because apparently that is all I'm writing lately. I also, for some reason, had the urge to write about snow in the middle of summer. Might be the impending heat wave. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Betty has never seen that much snow in her entire life. She is positive that it has to be at least 4 feet and that it is nearly impossible for them to leave the cabin now. How all that snow could have fallen in just one night, is a mystery to her.

From where she is standing, at the window of their temporary bedroom for the next two weeks, the landscape looks incredibly gorgeous. In the east, the sun is slowly coming up behind the horizon, tinting the trees in golden light, while making the snow on their branches sparkle.

For a brief second, she considers waking Jughead, to share the moment, but then she looks back at him, at the way he is lying on the bed, looking all cozy and warm and she just can’t bring herself to it. He needs the sleep. He needs the tranquility. After all, this is why they had come up to spend New Year’s here instead of back in Seattle.

The year itself had been successful for both of them. Betty had gotten the promotion she had been working for, for over two years now, and was finally able to work on the more interesting stories her local, Seattle based network produced. Meanwhile Jughead’s novel had been picked up and none of them could have anticipated how much success it would have, but also how much work that success would bring along with it.

So, after another, also very exhausting Cooper/Jones Christmas in Riverdale, they’d decided to just fuck it, stocked up on food and water and booked the most secluded cabin they could find in all the Pacific North West. Their phones were left on the kitchen counter of their apartment and they headed North, fully aware of the fact that their only form of communication for the next 2 weeks would be the satellite phone the cabin offered for emergencies. They couldn’t be happier about it. 

Time seems to be passing slower out here in the woods. The snow mutes the world, and most of the birds that are populating the surroundings during the rest of the year have made their way down south months ago. Last night, when they were cleaning their dinner plates, Jughead swore he’d seen a deer through the window.

Being out here has a simplicity to it, that they both have longed for, ever since Jason Blossom’s murder shook up Riverdale all those years ago. If she is being honest, Betty could even imagine living out here.

Unfortunately, neither her nor Jughead are nearly versed enough in survival skills to pull that off. So maybe, this is a dream for another lifetime.

For now, she will be enjoying these two weeks as fiercely as she can. She’ll relinquish in the quiet and soak up all the uninterrupted time she gets to spend alone with her husband.

Betty tears her eyes away from the still awakening landscape outside and slides back under the covers next to Jughead. She’d always liked how he looks when asleep. The way he is lying there right now, on his belly, arms shoved under the pillow with his face half hidden into it, he still looks like the 16-year-old boy she fell in love with.

So much has happened since then, so much has changed. All for the better.

But some things never do and the fact that she likes to watch him sleep is one of them. He looks adorable with his ruffled hair, the slightly parted lips and the little upturn of his mouth.

She traces his arm with her finger, although she yearns to connect the moles on his cheek. That would wake him, and she doesn’t want that. He should get rest; he should get sleep. If he was awake, he’d probably say the same about her. But she gets her energy out of these moments. The moments she knows he is relaxed, he is okay and that if they wanted, they could spend all day lazing in bed together. No alarm to alert them to the fact that there is a world out there waiting for them, no phone calls, from well-meaning, but ill-timed friends. No invitations to New Year’s parties they don’t want to go to, but are too polite to decline. Just her, him, the cackling fire in the fireplace and a few good books. It’s probably as close to paradise as they can get.

Jughead stirs, a tired sigh escaping his mouth while he stretches and blinks his eyes open. Betty’s hand stops caressing his arm and instead she smiles at him, receiving a sleepy smile in return.

“Morning” he mumbles, in that early morning rasp, that always sends a shiver down her spine.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Slept good?”

Before he answers, he leans over to kiss and a wrap his arms around her.

“Slept amazing” he says. “We should move out here. It's so quiet.”

“We’d die within the first few weeks.” Betty responds and he laughs.

“True, we’d probably get eaten by a bear or something.”

…

They stay in bed for another while until Jughead’s stomach makes itself heard with a very loud growl. He makes a move to get up from bed, but Betty pulls him back by the arm.

“No.” she whines. “I don’t want to move. Lets just stay here all day.”

He laughs and breaths a kiss onto her forehead: “You can stay here babe; I’ll go and get some breakfast ready.”

“Hmm, no. Breakfast is in the kitchen and the kitchen is cold.”

“I’ll get a fire going.”

“But then the bed is cold without you.”

Jughead rolls his eyes at her fondly and then moves so fast that Betty can’t even think about reacting. She shrieks when he hoists her up and over his shoulder and slaps his back a few times.

“Juggie, that’s not fair.”

“Everything is fair in love, war and when I’m hungry, Betts”

“I’m pretty sure that is not how the saying goes.”

He drops her down on the couch laughing, hands her a blanket and pecks her lips quickly.

“Just sit here, while I slave away. Like that, I at least have something pretty to look at.”

Normally Betty would protest, because after all, she does consider herself a feminist and she isn't by all means some eye candy, but as he saunters (very much shirtless) over to the kitchen and starts whipping up pancake batter, she can’t bring herself to care.

She just looks over and she knows, that the weeks coming up will be perfect.


	5. Dinner companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I listend to the song "Bruises" by Train and this just popped into my head.
> 
> For some reason I like the idea of Josie and Jughead running into each other after over a decade and catching up over milkshakes. Don't ask me why.

Of course, this happens to him. Of course, after three weeks of traveling around the country to attend various book signings and meetings he still feels nauseous about, the day he gets to finally go home, Denver is hit by a major snowstorm and his layover to Seattle gets cancelled.

So now he is stuck at the airport, because of course, all the roads are closed too and he is on the desperate search for some real food. The tiny little excuses for a sandwich the airport personal handed out lasted him for about an hour and then his stomach started to protest again. For a good 30 minutes he and his money saving habits engrained by a childhood of relative poverty tried to ignore it, but who was he kidding?

With an annoyed huff, he tugs his hand luggage behind him and longingly thinks about the pressed Italian sandwiches Betty makes sometimes. He’d kill for one right now.

“Come on, there must be at least a McDonalds here, somewhere.” he mumbles and shutters at the thought of what old Pope Tate would say, if he’d see his former best customer on the hunt for a soggy burger from a large, shitty, corporate food chain. But he is HUNGRY, and ready to accept everything that even resembles a burger.

And just like that, as he turns the corner, it appears, a real and solid burger restaurant in the middle of Jeppesen Terminal. For a moment he thinks about falling to his knees and thanking the heavens, but that is a tad dramatic, even for him.

By some miracle there isn’t even a queue and he orders the largest burger they have with extra cheese, a large side of fries and a chocolate milkshake. If he can’t have Pop's burger, he’ll at least try to make it feel like he is back in the familiar red booths. He is about to happily tear the first bite off his burger, when someone slides into the booth opposite him. He looks up, ready to snap at the person that is so rudely interrupting this glorious moment, but nearly drops his burger when he recognizes the face across from him.

“Josie?” he asks incredulously. Its been at least 15 years since he has seen her, not since Fred’s funeral to be exact. There is still a dull pang in his chest whenever he thinks about that day, but it hurts less now.

“Jughead Jones.” she grins and places a strawberry milkshake in front of herself. “Thought I’d recognized that hat.”

Jughead laughs silently and unconsciously reaches up to fiddle with the edges of his beanie. It is still there, even 15 years later and he has this feeling that they’ll probably have to bury it with him one day. Plus, it is kind of weather appropriate, even though he is not outside in the storm right now.

“So, what got you here?” Josie continues and waves her hand at the window. “Except for this horrible snowstorm.”

“Book tour” Jughead answers rapidly. He is still feeling a little uncomfortable with all the success his books had and steadily learning not to wait for the other shoe to drop.

“You got published?” Josie claps her hands excitedly. “I knew it! Well, no wonder actually, I think I’ve barely seen you do anything else then writing, back in Riverdale.”

“Still don't" Jughead shrugs and finally takes the first bite of his burger.

“Your dieting habits haven’t changed much either.” Josie points out.

“Never will.” Jughead grins, takes another bite and swallows before he adds: “Don’t really need to ask what you are doing, you are famous as hell now.”

Josie looks down at her nails, almost a little bashful. He is pretty sure that is a new development, because he can’t remember Josie McCoy ever being bashful in Highschool.

“I’m not that… famous.” she mumbles and Jughead scoffs.

“That song of yours was EVERYWHERE during summer. Betty didn’t listen to anything else for weeks. Not that is wasn’t good, but it had a little bit of a ‘Last Christmas’-effect on me after that.”

Josie looks up again, an amused smile playing on her lips: “So it’s still Betty huh?”

Jughead can’t help but feel a little proud when he lifts his left hand to show her the golden wedding band there. “17 years and counting. 5 of them married.”

Josie lets out a sigh. “Ugh. I wish I had that. I can’t even think about dating, with my schedule. Talking about it: How is Archie?”

“Happily married.” Jughead answers. “Well, at least he was the last time I talked to him. The adverb changes daily.”

“Veronica?”

“Who else?”

They both laugh again, and Josie takes another sip of her milkshake. There is silence for a moment, then Jughead says: “No, honestly Josie, as much as your song drove me crazy this summer, I’m glad you got out. That town was always weighing you down.”

Josie looks down at her nails again. “It did that to all of us. Are you going back often?”

“Not really. Mostly for Christmas and New Year’s. My dad and Alice still live there. But other then that… I don’t know, Riverdale is home yeah, but going back also means a lot of memories that are… not too much fun for any of us.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

“What about you?”

“I haven’t been back in years. Its… I feel like I escaped, you know. Mom and Tom moved a few years ago as well and ever since then, there wasn’t any real need to go back.”

There is another silence, one that only two people grown up in Riverdale can share and then she inquires: "So, you living that big New York City intellectual life now?”

Jughead shakes his head smiling.

“More of a Washington State small town life.”

“Really?” Josie asks. “Huh. Wouldn’t have pegged you and Betty to be the one’s that went back to the small-town life.”

“It’s where the car broke down.” Jughead jokes. “No seriously, it is about 30 minutes outside of Seattle where Betty works, and the ocean is close by. Its the polar opposite of Riverdale actually. No division between North and South and I don’t think it has ever seen a murder.”

“What is Betty doing?”

“She is a kick-ass journalist.” Again Jughead can’t suppress the pride in his voice. “Youngest chief editor of all time at her network.”

“Of course, she is. I would have been surprised if she had settled for anything less. Thats probably why she is not here with you, right? I mean you two did everything together, a book tour seems like a way too long time for you guys to be apart.”

“It was.” Jughead sighs, as he finishes off his fries. “But no, its not because of work, more of a ‘our son just learned how to crawl and needs 24/7 supervision’ situation.”

“Son?” Josie exclaims and slaps a hand over her heart. “Thats is amazing, Jughead.”

Then, she stops and lowers her voice: “Please tell me he is not the fourth.”

“Oh god, no.” Jughead huffs and unlocks his phone to show her a picture. “His name is Elijah. We were not going to punish another generation with that name.”

“He is precious.” Josie gushes and then her lips curl into a smile when Jughead’s phone starts to vibrate in his hand. “Seems like our ‘Riverdale survivors’ reunion will welcome another member.”

Jughead turns his phone around and smiles at the FaceTime call. He accepts it and grins at his wife.

“Hey love, you’ll never guess who I ran into.”


End file.
